Amnesia
by Onigori1
Summary: Alfred and Matt have been best friends for as long as they can remember. When Matt gets hurt and ends up losing his memory, Al can't handle it. He decides to get his memory back. Warnings: Angst, yelling, slight OOCness.  AU AmeCan Possible slight FrUK.


**Kenzie: Hey guys! Thanks for reading! So here's your summary: Alfred and Matt have been best friends for as long as they can remember. When Matt gets hurt and ends up losing his memory, Alfred can't handle it. As he is sinking into a deep depression, he realizes that the best thing to do would be to try getting his memory back. AU A/M Possible slight FrUK. … And that's about it! …I just realized how morbid my stories are… I mean, look at my first one! I wrote about attempted **_**suici**_**-**

**Nashi: Just shut up, Kenzie-san. Anyway, Kenzie-san doesn't own anything.**

**Kenzie: Did you just tell me to shut up? [Pulls out meat cleaver] **

Amnesia

I sat in the hard plastic chair, my hands clenched tightly in my lap. My head bowed down, my eyes screwed shut-_I would not cry_. My father's hand was heavy on my shoulder, as though he was attempting to channel strength, but it was really just to hold himself up. The door before me opened; I refused to look up.

"Arthur," murmured a familiar voice. The weight of my father's hand left my shoulder, his footsteps moving towards the person. A whispered conversation ensued, occasional words slipping out that were loud enough for me to hear. Words like "survived" and "serious condition" did nothing to lessen the tightness of my shoulders, the knot in my stomach that came from knowing that I could have prevented this. I was the hero! I was supposed to _protect_ my loved ones, not let them get hurt!

Footsteps came towards me, startling me out of my reverie. "Alfred…" began the familiar voice; a hand landed on my shoulder. I knew the hand couldn't be my father's; it was much to slender and soft for that. "Mathieu isn't awake yet, but I think it'll be okay if you go see him." Something about the tone of voice made me lift my head and look into the eyes of the speaker. The cobalt blue eyes of Matt's adoptive father, Francis (though he insisted Mattie and I call him "Papa"), looked back at me, glittering with unshed tears. I stood, muttering my thanks, and looked to my father. He nodded, indicating he'd wait out here. I faced the door, taking deep breaths to calm myself. Fisting my hands at my sides, I pushed open the heavy metal door, ready to face what awaited me inside.

I didn't look up from the floor until I heard the distinct click from behind me. As I surveyed the room, I quickly stumbled to the chair waiting by the bedside, my knees buckling and effusing to hold me up any longer. The sight before me was terrible.

There lay Matt, looking the weakest I've ever seen him. His body was lying in a peaceful position, his beautiful hair splayed out on the pillow. His face was set in a slight smile, his eyelids fluttering as he dreamed. Beside him on the nightstand sat his glasses. I would have thought that he was simply sleeping if it weren't for the tubes. They went through his nostrils, into his arms, and even a few went into his chest. They contained him, ensnared him, connecting him to bags of fluid and a million machines. A heart monitor beeped in the corner; something that watched his brain graphed below it. His blood pressure was watched by a computer in that same corner.

I sank into the chair, my eyes wide with shock. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" I whispered, covering my face with my hands, as though hiding his still form from view could change what actually happened, as if it could erase the image from my memory.

I don't know how long I sat there; hours, days, years, minutes, they were all the same to me. All I know is that a few minutes (days? years?) later, I heard something that caused me to look up in shock.

"Al…" came the breathless voice, raspy with misuse. When I looked up into the beautiful face, violet eyes looked back at me, half-open. "I'm…sorry…" he struggled to get out before lapsing back into the sleep. I grabbed his hand, trying to pull him out of his slumber.

"Matt…Mattie!" I yelled, desperate to get his attention. Finally, a nurse walked in and escorted me out to my father. I flung myself into his arms and immediately started sobbing, letting out all of the tears I had been hiding so meticulously for so long. "Papa" stood beside me, stroking my hair as my real father held me.

They convinced me to go home after about ten minutes. Once we reached my split-level, I went straight upstairs and proceeded to lock myself in my room, refusing to come out, even for dinner. I couldn't bring myself to think, knowing that all of my thoughts would eventually lead back to Mattie. Sleep came and went, and when I finally left my bedroom the next morning, I felt exhausted. I smelled smoke, but that was fairly common in my house; my father burned everything he attempted to cook. I dragged myself to the kitchen, intending to get a bowl of cereal.

As I pulled out the box of Cap'n Crunch, my father came into the room. "Alfred, Francis just called. Matthew is being released tomorrow, but… Something's different."

Without so much as a glance over my shoulder, I answered coolly. "Just tell me, Dad. It can't get much worse." I didn't know why I was being so harsh; I suppose it was because I was angry. Angry at the world, for being too dangerous; angry at God, for letting this happen; angry at myself, for not being there to help.

Usually, my dad would have gotten upset for being so rude about it, but he didn't say a thing. "Amnesia," was all he said.

I dropped the bowl on the counter, not caring when it shattered. "…What?" Forget what I said before; things just got a _lot_ worse. "T-that's not that bad, right? Just something wrong with his kidneys, right?" I was desperate. Mattie couldn't have something too serious; my dad must be exaggerating.

"No…Alfred, Matthew lost his memories. He doesn't know you, me, or even Francis. His memories can come back, though." I was on the verge of hyperventilation. He can't have forgotten me. It just isn't possible! My father's face was grim as I stalked out of the house and away. Once outside, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, racing towards the one person who was always there for me when I needed help: Mattie himself.

A few minutes later, I was bursting through the front doors of the hospital. "Where's Matthew Bonnefoy's room?" I demanded

The nurse, it seemed, was in on the "make this the worst possible day for Alfred Kirkland" plan. Instead of just telling me when I asked, she looked up at me quizzically. "Name?"

"Alfred F. Kirkland. My father is Arthur Kirkland; I don't know who my mom is. Can you tell me where to go, please?"

"Any relation to the patient?"

"I'm his best friend, now _let me through_."

"I'm sorry sir, but I can only let family through. If you wish to see him, you'll have to wait until tomorrow." When I refused to move, the nurse's voice took on a threatening tone. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. If you need a phone, they're over- Sir! You can't go through without a visitor's pass!" she called, but I didn't turn around. As she was talking, gesturing towards the pay phones, I had gone past her, running full tilt down the hallway behind her. She had security guards sent after me, but still I ran.

Rounding a corner, I ran head-first into someone. I picked myself up off the ground, intending to keep running, but a hand grasping my forearm prevented me from doing so.

"Alfred?" The voice startled me, causing me to turn around, even in my haste. There, using my arm to pull himself up, was none other than Francis. Exhaustion was obvious upon his face, the usually bright blue eyes dull and his skin taking on an odd pallor. Strands of hair lay in his face; his stubble was even longer than usual. "Why are you running?" he inquired.

"Um…" I tried to think of a way to explain it that wouldn't get him to call my father. I brightened; a piece of the old me worked its way into my mind. "Because I'm the hero, and heroes always run!"

"And where, exactly, were you running, _mon cher_?"

"…I…honestly don't know. Francis, could you take me to Mattie?"

"I suppose, but you should probably ask that of the guard." I turned around, and sure enough, one of my pursuers was standing behind me, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"U-um… Do you think I could go with him?" I asked, trying to sound humble. The guard sighed, exasperated, and just nodded.

"You'll need this," he said, his voice surprisingly amiable for a man as tall as him. His nametag read "Ludwig" and his hair was slicked back, a blonde helmet formed from it. Blue eyes sparkled in the set face, giving the otherwise harsh face a gentle quality. He held out a hand, looking at me expectantly.

I looked at the hand for a moment before realizing what his intentions were. "Oh!" I said, quickly giving him my hand. He wrapped a wristband around my wrist, officially giving me access to the patients' area of the building.

"If I hear any complaints about you, I won't let you go again," he warned me, releasing my wrist.

"Yes sir," I said. "And… Thank you very much."

"_Oui, merci beaucoup_," said Francis. As Ludwig nodded and walked back to the front, Francis turned to me. "Follow me, _mon cher_."

So I did. He led me through twisting hallways, upstairs, and down more hallways. Finally, he stopped at a door. Silently, he pushed it open and led me inside, motioning for me to be quiet. I crept to the bed in the center of the room, the knot in my stomach loosening considerably when I saw that the tubes were all gone. Mattie looked so much more…peaceful without all the vicious tubes flowing in and out of his body.

As Francis and I sat, his eyes fluttered open and looked straight at me. This was what I had been waiting for; I knew that if he just saw me, he would immediately remember. Right?

"_Bonjour, mon fils_," said Francis. Mattie nodded, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Uhm… Mattie? How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay…" I bit my lip; something wasn't right. "Excuse me, but…Who are you again?"

My heart cracked, my vision blurred. It couldn't be true; he couldn't forget me! This _had_ to be a cruel joke… But… Mattie would never do that to me. No, he was too nice.

"I'm Alfred! Don't you remember?"

"…I'm sorry, but I really don't." I stared at him in shock, my mind refusing to register the words just spoken to me. He turned to Francis. "You're Arthur, right?" I glanced to my right, towards the man whose face had fallen just a bit.

"_Non_, I am Francis, or Papa to you. Arthur is his father," he said to the confused boy in the bed, pointing to me.

"And who is he?"

"I'm your best friend! We've been together for as long as I can remember, Mattie. I was there when you broke your arm in the third grade; I was there when you finally gave up Kumajiro. Don't you remember any of that?"

"I'm sorry…I really am, but I don't remember anything!" he cried. Obviously, his personality didn't change when he lost his memories. He was still overly eager to please, and he hated to disappoint. "I do rememb – augh!" he cried, clutching his head. Immediately, Francis and I were at his side, concern dominating our features.

"What? What's wrong?" I demanded. Mattie didn't answer, just pinched his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Francis didn't say anything either, just stroked his hair until he relaxed against his pillows. Once Mattie was settled, Francis turned to me.

"The doctor told me that as memories began to return, Mathieu's head would begin to hurt. Headaches like this will be fairly common until he gets his memory back, and possibly a little while afterward," he murmured to me.

"Isn't there something they could give him for that?"

"I'm afraid not. Trust me, _mon cher_, I too wish I could make the pain go away for _mon fils_. As of now, all we can do is try to help him remember things and comfort him during this rough time." Francis's solemnity scared me a little; for as long as I could remember, he had been a joyful, perverted, all-around fun guy. I had never seen him as quiet as I have the past few days. A broken sob startled me out of my reverie; Francis and I whipped our heads around as fast as possible, gazing at the blonde on his bed. We rushed to him once more, attempting to comfort him and find out what exactly was ailing him.

"Mattie, what's wrong? I'm the hero, I can fix anything!" I assured him. Francis looked at me with an expression that almost represented amusement before returning his concerned stare to Matthew.

"Mathieu, if you want us to leave, _mon fils_, we will. You just have to say the word," soothed Francis. Slowly, very slowly, Mattie's sobs turned to hiccups, which then turned to gentle sniffs.

"…I think I need some time alone," whispered Matt, his eyes downcast as he mopped up his tears. He said it as though he was ashamed to send us away like this, which, knowing his personality, he probably was. Francis nodded and turned away, taking my wrist within his hand with a gentle but unbreakable grip. He walked out the door, telling his son that he just needed to call and he would be there, but I stood there, staring at Mattie. Eventually I let Francis drag me out the door, but my gaze never once left Mattie's face.

He was really beginning to scare me. He absolutely _never_ sent me away. If something was bothering, he would ask me to stay with him, and here he was asking me to leave. If there had been any doubt in my mind about the seriousness of the situation, it was gone now.


End file.
